The Day After Tomorrow
by ellodarlin
Summary: What begins as a road trip to Nationals becomes a struggle for survival, as Mother Nature claims the world around them before their very eyes. Britanna with Faberry
1. Chapter 1

**Hi all! **

**This is my first Glee Fic, naturally revolving around my favourite character, Santana! It's Brittana obviously, and eventual Faberry, because I absolutely love those two together! The rest of the Glee kids are in it too, especially Puck, because I've got such a soft spot for him. It's meant to take place at the end of Season 3, just before Rachel, Finn and Kurt are supposed to graduate! Also, Sam is still in it because I love him. At this point, Rachel and Finn are still together, but not for long! Faberry all the way! Kurt and Blaine are together too! And Britanna is always on!**

**I'd appreciate it if you could let me know what you think of this first chapter, and whether or not you think I should continue! Peace and love.**

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><p>Santana Lopez slammed her fist onto the table in fury.<p>

This was _bullshit_.

Fifteen hours. She had been stuck in this godforsaken airport for fifteen _fucking_ hours, waiting to board a plane that had been delayed over and over again. Her bony ass was hurting from the most uncomfortable chair she had ever sat on, her hair was thrown up in a messy pony-tail because some douche-bag had accidentally spilt his Sprite on it, and she was pretty sure her mascara had smudged all around her eyes, making her look like a panda. She wasn't exactly having the time of her life.

The red-head at the desk had laughed and smiled when Santana had expressed her concern over the delays, that she absolutely had to be in New York by 9 AM tomorrow, or she and her friends would be disqualified from Nationals. They had to register on time. The lady had responded that the plane would get them there well before 9 AM tomorrow, and that Santana didn't have to worry.

Santana suppressed a growl in the back of her throat as she stared at the words 'Flight Cancelled' flashing across the screen. Oh yeah. She was worried alright. And she was _pissed_.

To her right, Puck gave a loud snore. She glared at him in disgust. He had been asleep for the past thirteen hours, his head resting on the table that lay tribute to Santana's hard attempt to stay awake. It was littered with empty coffee cups, candy wrappers and sheets of completed crosswords that she had ripped out from the magazines on the shelf in coffee shop. Sleeping Beauty had been blissfully unaware of any of the chaos happening around them, probably dreaming of some dirty threesome or something.

He gave a great big snort when she shook him awake, which made the family sitting behind them jump in fright. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he turned to look questioningly at Santana, who wordlessly pointed to the screen in front of them. When his sluggish brain finally got hold of what was going on, Puck groaned, and slumped his head back onto the table with a thump.

"Come on," said Santana, wincing from the stiffness in her legs as she slowly stood up. She grabbed her suitcase and dragged it across the floor, Puck tailing behind her, heading towards the already crowded Information Desk. She spotted the red-head that she had talked to earlier, and couldn't help the evil smirk that crept onto her face. She had been stuck in this airport for fifteen hours, bored, frustrated and seriously needing a shower. The prospect of going all Lima-Heights on this bitch's ass was almost too sweet. Adrenaline was fuelling her system with excitement and anticipation. She couldn't wait to let rip, and do what she did best.

But it seemed she would be denied even this shred of enjoyment. Someone had beaten her to the punch. Someone had reached the desk first, yelling out obscenities for the whole airport to hear, gesturing wildly with freakishly large hands. Santana knew those man-hands. Heck, she knew that voice. All too painfully well.

As if she needed another reason to hate Rachel Berry.

Skulking behind her were Quinn and Sam, both looking suitably embarrassed by the attention they seemed to be attracting. They looked over at Santana and Puck as they drew closer, their faces sporting identical looks of surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

They had all said it simultaneously. Sam chuckled, which seemed to break the tension because suddenly they were all smiling.

"I'm guessing we were all meant to be on the same flight then?" he asked Santana and Puck.

"The one that's been delayed for, like, a gazillion hours?" answered Santana.

"Yeah that's the one."

There was a pause, and then Puck chirped in with a confused "Wait, how long was I out?"

Santana just shook her head at him, somewhat amused.

"I have to be on that plane, lady. Do you understand me? I have to be on that plane!"

Rachel was starting to high-pitch. Ordinarily, Santana would have stepped in by now with a snide remark to get her to shut up. It was honestly like listening to a broken record of Road Runner. Santana had always hated Road Runner. Coyote wasn't cut enough slack.

But hell, she was pissed off too. And quite frankly, if anyone deserved to be at the receiving end of one of Berry's rants, it was that bitch.

Instead she turned to Quinn. "So, what's the deal? Is everyone else in New York already?"

Quinn nodded. "Mr Schue flew in yesterday with Finn, Tina, Mike and Mercedes. I think Lauren was already in New York on holiday or something, so she just met them there. And then Brittany and Artie arrived last night. I think Kurt and Blaine were on the same flight, but I haven't heard from them."

Santana tried to not show how much it affected her to hear that Brittany had flown in with Artie.

"Blaine's there too?" she asked instead.

"Yeah he wanted to come and support us."

Santana raised her eyebrows. Wow. Blaine needed to get life.

Not that she wasn't fond of the guy. He was too damn cute to hate. Heck, if it wasn't for the whole gay thing, she'd totally ride that.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NO MORE FLIGHTS TONIGHT?"

Santana grimaced. Okay. Time to intervene.

"Dwarf, seriously, tone it down. I'm pretty sure the whole of Ohio can hear you."

Rachel turned abruptly, glaring at her. Santana swore she could see the steam rising from her ears.

"Santana, I know you don't care whether or not we make it to Nationals, but some of us actually want to go far in our lives, and this show choir competition is the last chance I have to get noticed! Don't you get it? My Broadway career depends on this competition!"

Santana ignored her, rolling her eyes. She plastered a smile on her face before turning to the red-head, battering her eye lashes. "So... Jill," she said, reading the lady's name-tag, "when's the next flight out to New York?"

Jill sighed. "Unfortunately, because of these extreme weather conditions, I can't say. No one is flying out of Ohio tonight."

Santana's smile faltered. "Oh come on, it's just a stupid storm. Ohio deals with these things all the time. What about tomorrow morning?"

Jill was starting to look nervous again. She bit her lip. "I'm very sorry, but all flights have been cancelled until further notice. It doesn't look like there'll be any until tomorrow evening at the earliest. There's a hotel across the road if you want to check yourselves in for the night, and if you come back tomorrow afternoon, we can-"

She broke off abruptly as Santana slammed her fist down for the second time that night, all traces of a smile gone from her face.

"Lady, I don't know if your cheap-dye job affects your hearing or something, but I'm pretty sure I made it perfectly clear that we-" Santana gestured to the rest of the club, "-need to be in New York by 9 AM tomorrow morning."

Jill's eyes hardened.

"I understand, and I'm very sorry for the inconvenience caused, but I can't help you. Please come back tomorrow, and we should be able to put you on another flight".

With that, she turned to address the person next in line.

"Oh hell no," Santana snarled, reaching for Jill's shoulder, ready to unleash her rage. However, two strong arms wrapped around her waist suddenly, picked her up, and carried her away from the desk before she could do any damage. A shriek to her left told her that Rachel was experiencing something similar.

"Puck," Santana was literally shaking with anger now, "put me the fuck down. _Now_."

"No can do, Lopez. It's for everyone's safety".

He actually sounded like he was enjoying himself. Sometimes, Santana really didn't understand her best friend.

He sat her down on a bench on the other side of the room. Two seconds later, Sam deposited Rachel next to her. Quinn stood in front of them, glaring menacingly. "Sit, and shut up," she ordered, "while we figure out a plan. Getting angry, or hysterical-" she added, looking meaningfully at Rachel "-isn't going to help anyone."

Santana could see Puck smirking at her from his position behind Quinn, and had an unbearable urge to punch him. But she could see, however begrudgingly, that there was truth in Quinn's words, so she folded her arms across her chest and sat back, scowling at Puck's stupid face.

"Fine," Rachel muttered, mimicking Santana's pose with a huff.

"Fabulous," said Quinn, smiling serenely. She turned to the rest of the group. "So, what's the plan?"

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><p>"Okay, here are the rules," warned Santana, as she led the group to her car, "My car means my music, and anyone who tries to say otherwise gets to walk the rest of the way. Also, you spill anything on the seats? You die. <em>Painfully<em>. See this? This is leather motherfuckers. Leather. And it's brand new. So respect it. Gots it?"

They all muttered their acknowledgement as they climbed into Santana's Mazda CX-7. She heard Sam give an appreciative whistle of approval as he took in the interior of the car. "Oh man, this is so sweet. Ten hours of travelling in style!" he said, raising his hand to hi-5 Quinn. From the silence that followed, Santana gathered that she hadn't returned it.

"Ten hours?" piped up Rachel, who was sitting in between the two, "It's going to take us ten hours to drive to New York?"

"That's right!" said Puck, as he lifted the last suitcase into the car's boot.

"More than that if you count stopping for petrol and food. Oh, and pee-breaks," Sam added.

Rachel whimpered dramatically, closing her eyes. "I'm finished. My dream is over."

"What are you moaning about Dwarf?" Santana snapped, as she and Puck tried to get the boot closed.

"We're cutting it too fine. There's no way we're going to make it on time. Not with traffic and rest stops and-"

"Calm your pretty head, my little Jewish princess," Puck interrupted, winking at her, "The way me and San drive? You have nothing to worry about". He gave one final push and sighed in relief when the boot door slammed shut. Turning to Santana, he held out his hand expectantly. "You look like crap. You need to sleep," he said as explanation, when she raised her eyebrows at him, nonplussed.

"Urgh," she groaned, slapping the car keys into his hand before getting into the passenger seat. "I swear to God Puckerman, if you so much as put a scratch on my baby, I will ends you. Hear me?"

"Sweetheart, you know I'll treat her like she's my own," Puck said as he climbed into the driver's seat. Santana looked at him. God, he was practically drooling.

"Oh yeah! Road trip!" cheered Sam, pumping his fist in the air.

"Fellow glee clubbers, I think we should use this time wisely and practice our numbers," squeaked Rachel, who was way too close to Santana's ear for her liking. "Shall I begin the warm up?"

Santana caught Quinn's eye in the review mirror. Shaking her head, she slumped against her seat, trying to block out the sound of Rachel's vocal exercises.

It was going to be the longest drive of her life.

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><p><strong>Please leave a review!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys!**

**First off, can I say how sorry I am that this update took so long! My laptop died on me, and this chapter was stuck in it, so I had to wait for my boyfriend to fix it before I could access the document! I really hope you'll all still read this story because I'm so excited for it - I've got tons of ideas! If you guys have any suggestions for how things go, you can just let me know in a review or a PM, and I'll definitely try and incorporate it into the story! **

**The feedback I received from my first chapter was honestly overwhelming. Thank you so so so much for all your lovely reviews, and to everyone who marked it as a Favourite, and to everyone who put it on their Story Alert list! Honestly, it made my month.**

**The next update will take a much shorter time than this one. Promise!**

**So without further ado, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

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><p>"Brit, I'm telling you, I don't know if I can take this much longer," Santana hissed through clenched teeth. She clamped her free hand over her ear in attempt to block out the sounds around her.<p>

They were about three hours into their journey to New York, and Berry still hadn't shut up.

To make matters worse, it seemed that her talkative tendency was infectious because somewhere in the journey, everyone else had decided to join in. Currently, they were singing their own rendition of Queen's 'We are the Champions'. Rachel was belting it out, pitch perfect of course, with Quinn harmonising, Puck screeching out the instrumental parts with his guitar impersonation, and Sam contributing wherever he felt he was needed. This included miming the drumming. What a dumb ass.

Freddie Mercury was a legend, but seriously, she had her limits.

She turned her attention back to her mobile phone, trying to focus on the sound of her girlfriend's voice.

"Seriously Brit, I might kill someone soon."

"San!"

"You don't get it! Brit, it's been three hours. Three hours! All I want to do is sleep, and these idiots aren't letting me!"

Brittany gave a tinkling laugh, making Santana melt inside. Oh God, she had it bad.

"Have you tried asking them to be quieter?"

Santana groaned. "I told you, they won't listen! Here, I'll show you…"

She turned to face the group, who now, it seemed were in the middle of singing 'Don't Stop Me Now'.

"Hey losers!" she yelled, "SHUT UP!"

All she received was Puck's middle finger in her face.

"Ugh. I got nothing," Santana grumbled back into her phone.

"That wasn't really asking San…"

"Yeah, well same difference. They won't listen either way," Santana turned her back to the rest of the car pointedly, "Distract me babe. Tell me what's going on in New York."

Brittany sighed. "I think everyone's freaking out a little, but I'm not sure if it's about the competition or if it's about the freaky weather we're having."

"Freaky weather?"

"Yeah! San, it rained ice! Like little balls of ice, and me and Tina tried to collect them in a cup to make snow cones!"

"That's called hail babe."

"Yeah! And then they got so big that you could only fit one ice ball in a cup!" Brittany exclaimed, "Then Mr Schue said we had to stop. He's such a party pooper-"

Santana laughed at her girlfriend's adorable naivety as she continued to complain about Mr Schue. Santana silently thanked the poor guy for keeping an eye out for her. She let her mind wander as she stared out of the window into the night. They seemed to be the only car on the road, so it was pitch black. For some reason, it made her shudder, and suddenly she longed to be safe in Brittany's arms. Maybe wrapped up under the covers, with candles, and some whipped cream…

"- and maybe that's why they're postponing the competition till Saturday now."

Santana snapped back into the conversation. "Wait, what? It's not tomorrow?"

"Oh yeah! That's why Mr Schue said to call you! He said that the competition had been postponed by a day because there were three other show choirs that hadn't been able to fly in too. Isn't that great Sanny? Now we have a day to look around New York! We can go feed the ducks at Central Park! I don't know if they'll eat normal bread though, we might need to feed them something fancy - maybe cookies or something! Oh and we might need to take an umbrella because it hasn't stopped raining ice yet."

Santana couldn't help it. She smiled, like the love-sick puppy she always was when she heard Brittany speak. In the back of her mind, she was vaguely aware of feeling annoyed that she had embarked on this _excruciatingly_ painful journey with Lima's biggest losers for nothing, but somehow Brittany made that seem so unimportant.

"I miss you Brit-Brit."

Brittany giggled. "I miss you too San. I love you!"

"I love you too babe," said Santana, grinning from ear to ear.

The grin slipped off pretty quickly when she saw Quinn smirking at her in the side mirror. Everyone else in the car was thankfully oblivious, still singing along to Queen.

"I'd love you a lot more if you could get them to shut up though," Santana joked tiredly. Seriously, she was beat.

Brittany was silent, and Santana knew she was thinking hard of a solution. She could practically hear the wheels turning in her head.

"Let me talk to Quinn. She'll listen to me," Brittany said simply.

Santana highly doubted this, but obeyed nevertheless. Quinn took the phone from her, smiling her sickly sweet smile that Santana longed to slap off. There was a pause as Quinn listened to what Brittany had to say before handing it back with a small wink.

"What did you say to her?" Santana asked warily, glancing as Quinn whispered something to Rachel and Sam, who in turn leaned forward and whispered into Puck's ear.

"It doesn't matter, I took care of it!" said Brittany cheerfully, "You should sleep honey! I'll see you soon! Love you!"

"Bye Brit."

She hung up, staring at her phone happily for a few seconds. Then she did a double take, realising that the noise level in the car had dropped to almost non-existent. She looked around wildly, half expecting someone to start singing again. She was met with more silence. Sweet, _sweet_ silence.

Bewildered, Santana leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, pondering over the magical powers that Brittany S. Pierce so obviously possessed.

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><p>All Santana knew was that she was flying. Like, literally <em>flying<em> through the air. Weird, since last she had checked, she had definitely been sitting in the passenger seat of her pride and joy.

But no. Here she was. Flying.

And then, she was pretty sure she had collided with a brick wall.

"Jesus Christ, Noah!"

"Shit! Shit, shit shit!"

Santana groaned, slowly opening her eyes, disorientated. What the hell was going on?

"Puck, get us out of here now!"

"I'm trying! Goddamnit!"

She could feel something warm trickling down her face. She raised her hand to wipe it off, but hissed in pain when she made contact with her forehead. _What the fuck?_

"Fuck! Puckerman, drive faster!"

"SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Santana stared at the gleaming red liquid that coated her fingers, confused. Was that blood? How the hell did that get there? She looked around, intending to ask Puck.

She was met with his massive elbow smacking into her face.

Pain exploded in her like she had never felt before. It was blinding and hot and it seemed to invade into every inch of her skull. It made her eyes leak and shut tight. It made her cry out, and then nearly choke on the coppery liquid in her mouth. It made a ringing in her ears, muffling the sound of the panicked yelling that had erupted.

"San, I'm sorry! Shit, I'm so sorry! I was changing gears, I wasn't looking – I didn't realise – Shit!" Puck's voice broke through her agony, "What the hell are you doing on the floor anyway? Can somebody help her up already?"

He could give Berry a run for her money with the amount of high-pitching he was doing.

Santana gathered that she had fallen off her seat. She knew she should have worn her stupid seatbelt. Gentle hands had reached around her shoulders, coaxing her up from her crumpled position. She felt herself being hoisted up, back onto the luxury leather, her hair being smoothed out of her face. The hands were soothing, cool against her hot skin. She could hear slow, even breaths against her ear, surprisingly calming. She leaned back against her seat, sighing as her shoulders made contact with the cool material.

"Thanks Q," she breathed, closing her eyes.

The hands stopped moving.

"Uh, that's not me San." Quinn's voice was soft. Too soft.

Way too soft for her to be breathing down Santana's neck.

Santana frowned. But if it wasn't Quinn, then who the hell was-

Her eyes snapped open in disbelief.

"Man-hands, what the –" Santana was sputtering, "- what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Struggling, she twisted in her seat, coming face to face with Rachel Berry. At first, Rachel froze; eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Then something seemed to dawn on her face, pushing away the fear.

"Oh Santana, will you cut the crap already? Do you have any idea how much of a mess you look right now? Just stop trying to be such a hard-ass all the time, and accept the help I'm giving you. Okay?"

Her words were met with a loud silence. Everyone gaped at Rachel in shock.

Santana didn't know what had surprised her more; the fact that Rachel had said the word 'crap', or that she actually sounded, for once in her life, fear-less. _Tough_. She had even spoken in a fairly normal pitch, not squeaked it out like the little mouse she always seemed to be. It was disconcerting. Santana didn't know what to think. Her mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, itching to put the girl back in her place, but drawing up blanks.

She frowned as a horrifying though gripped her. Was she actually beginning to respect Rachel Berry?

Rachel took advantage of Santana's temporary inability to speak.

"And another thing. Not wearing your seatbelt? I don't understand what could have possessed you to take such a risk! Do you know the how many road accidents America has in a year? It was foolish and reckless, and I should hope you've learnt your lesson, because I'm not always going to be here-"

Santana tuned out. Ah, there it was. The familiar whining.

She may have been in pain, but at least the world made sense again.

Speaking of pain.

"Puck," she hissed, spitting out blood, "what is your fucking problem?"

"You can kill me later Lopez, alright? Right now, I need to focus on getting us out of here alive."

Somewhere in the roaring of her rage, Santana picked up on the tone of his words. She glanced at him. He looked absolutely petrified.

"What's happening?"

He shook his head, his eyes glued to the road in front of him. He glanced in the review mirror, mumbled something under his breath, and pressed down harder on the gas. Whatever was behind them clearly scared the crap out of him.

Were they being chased or something?

Filled with dread, Santana slowly turned her head to look out the back window. At first, she saw nothing but darkness. Then she gasped as her eyes adjusted, her heart gripped with fear.

She didn't know how she had missed the bending trees, or the flying debris around them. Paper, plastic bags and swarms of leaves were flying past the windows at a rapid speed. They shot past like bullets, before being sucked into the twisting vortexes that lagged behind them.

Tornadoes. Five of them. Making their way slowly towards her Mazda CX-7, and all its occupants.

What the fuck.

Santana swallowed, turning back around to face the front. She raised a shaky hand to grip Puck's shoulder supportively.

"Get us out of here alive Puckerman, and I _swear to God_, I'll give you this damn car."

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><p><strong>As always, please leave a review!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey all!**

**So here's the third chapter. I need to clarify that I know fuck all about tornadoes and how they really work, so for all I know, this chapter is a pile of bull shit. It's also shorter than the last two - just because I didn't want to drag it out too long. This is only the first disaster in the long line to come! **

**As for my writing, I really don't know how I feel about this one. I hope it's not too confusing! There's a lot of Pucktana in it (cause that bromance is the shit), but I promise there will be lots of Faberry in the next few chapters. I really hope you guys like it!**

**Lovage x**

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><p>Her life was a fucking sitcom.<p>

Seriously, if there hadn't been a very real possibility that they were all going to die at the end of this, it would have been hilarious.

Chaos had long ago erupted in the Mazda. Santana was bleeding, Sam was yelling, Puck was sweating, and Rachel and Quinn were failing to keep the peace.

"Sam be quiet!" It sounded like an order from a commanding officer in the military, but Santana knew that Quinn was begging, "You're not helping!"

"We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die," chanted Sam.

"Dude!" Puck sounded scandalised, "You are seriously making this like, one hundred times harder!"

"Puck, maybe we should park and find a ditch or something to hide in," Quinn suggested.

"Do you see any ditches around here Quinn? Cause all I'm seeing are fields, and they're all flat as hell!"

"Don't bite my head off! It was just a suggestion-"

"We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die."

Meanwhile, Rachel was trying to wipe the blood off Santana's face, but from all the swerving of the car, her aim wasn't fantastic. It also didn't help that her hands were shaking in her panicked state.

"Ow! _Damnit_ Berry, that fucking hurt!" cried Santana, as Rachel's hand connected painfully with the cut on her forehead.

"Oh Santana, I'm so sorry! It's because Noah's moving the car around so much-"

"I'm fucking trying to keep us alive Rachel!" Puck was livid.

"I know Noah! I'm not blaming you! It's just that with all the movement, it's hard to tend to Santana's wounds-"

"We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die."

"That's enough Sam! Noah, focus on getting us out of here. Santana, just try and keep still and I'll clean your nose as gently as I can."

"I'll help," offered Quinn, and Santana felt two sets of hands on her face.

"We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna-"

"I swear to _God_, Guppy Face," barked Santana, "if you don't shut your oversized mouth anytime soon, I'm gonna knee you so far up the-"

"Santana! Stop moving!" Rachel interrupted, pressing a wet wipe onto her cheek.

"Guys," Puck said hesitantly, eyes glued to the road, "I just wanna say that if this is, like, the _end_ or something, just know that I like, you know, fucking love you all and shit, you know?"

"Don't strain yourself Puckerman," Santana muttered sardonically.

"Fuck off Lope– Holy shit!"

Quinn and Rachel flung back into their seats with a yelp, as the car swerved sharply to the left.

"Shit! That one almost got us!" Puck's voice was shaky as fuck.

"Less talk Puckerman! Concentrate on the fucking road!" Santana shouted, eyes wide with fear.

"I am God damn concentrating! If you think you can do a better job-"

"Noah, Santana, I really don't think now is the best time to have a lover's spat."

"Who the hell asked you Man-hands?"

"Rachel's right you guys. Just calm the hell down already-"

"That's easy for you to say! You're not driving! You're not fucking responsible for whether we survive this shit or not!"

"You're doing fantastically Noah, you really are!"

"WE'RE GONNA DIE, WE'RE GONNA DIE, WE'RE-"

"SAM! SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

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><p>Santana didn't know how he did it, but somehow, Puck got them out of there alive.<p>

It had all happened so quickly. One minute Rachel had been physically restraining her from climbing over her seat and ripping Sam's head off, the next minute Quinn was shouting that two of the tornadoes were changing course and were moving away from them, before Sam stopped yelling to exclaim how another one seemed to be losing its momentum.

Then Puck had sped to a speed she was certain her car could not handle, and had swung them left, right and centre. She had felt nothing but terror, her eyes fixed on the remaining two tornadoes, twisting closer and closer to them in their zigzagged paths.

One of them passed them, carrying on into the night, as Puck avoided it by swerving sharply to the left.

She didn't see the last one as much as she felt it.

She heard the wheels squeal against the tarmac as the car began to spin towards it, heard Puck swear louder than she had ever heard him, watched him as he manically turned the steering wheel, a mad look of desperation etched on his face.

She jolted in her seat as the car screeched to a halt.

There was silence.

Nobody spoke as they watched the vortexes twist off into the darkness; all holding their breath, hardly daring to believe that it was truly over.

It took a good ten minutes or so for them to realise that it was.

Sam was the first to break the quiet.

"ALRIGHT!" he yelled, pumping his fist into the air.

That seemed to be the signal everyone needed. Santana let out a huge sigh of relief and closed her eyes. She could hear Rachel's muffled sobs, Sam chanting about how they were going to live, Quinn laughing, half crazed, telling Rachel that everything was okay.

The only one who hadn't said anything was Puck.

She turned to face him. He was still gripping the steering wheel like it was his lifeline, knuckles white and eyes wide. He slowly turned to look at her when she placed, what she hoped was, a comforting hand on his thigh.

"We-We made it?"

He whispered it like a question, needing her confirmation. He looked so much like the little boy she had first met all those years ago, when she stopped Dave Karofsky from picking on him in kindergarten.

She felt her throat close up and just nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Puck's eyes seemed to enlarge even more.

"We made it," he repeated to himself. Then he shook his head as if to clear it, a grin stretching on his face. "We made it! WE FUCKING MADE IT! HAH!"

He drove the car into a field on the side of the road and practically hopped out of his seat, whooping and yelling like a hooligan. Everyone laughed as they followed suit, jumping up and down in giddy relief. Rachel and Quinn were hugging and giggling like school girls, and Sam danced some sort of victory trot with his arms in the air. Santana just leant against the car, staring at Puck in awe as he ran round and round in a circle, a jumble of pride, gratitude and love swelling in her chest.

Because Noah Puckerman dodged, fucking _dodged,_ not one, or two, but five tornadoes, and pretty much saved everyone's lives. Not to mention her car.

He was a God damn hero.

She knew she and Brit were exclusive and shit, and she loved her more than anything in this world, but it took all her will power not to stick her tongue down Puck's throat and fuck him right then and there.

It didn't mean anything; it was the way they had always shown each other that they cared. They were both so messed up – so determined to prove just how much shit they could take without showing how much it really affected them – that somewhere along the line, expressing feelings had become a challenge. Neither of them were particularly gifted with words.

Sex was just their thing. It had been difficult to break the habit when she and Brit had finally made their relationship official.

She watched as he hugged Quinn and Rachel together, lifting them off their feet and swinging them around. She shared a bond with him that no one, not even Brit, could understand. It was more than friendship, stronger than family, deeper than fuck-buddies.

It was Puck and Santana. She never wanted a world without him in it.

His eyes met hers, and she knew instantly that he felt it too. Wordlessly, she pushed herself off the car and walked up to him, never breaking eye contact. He gently untangled himself from Rachel's clutches before pulling Santana into his chest. She curled her arms around his neck so she could bury her face in his shoulder. She sighed happily as his arms wrapped around her waist securely. She inhaled.

He smelt like safety, like _home_.

She pulled away reluctantly to look at his beaming face.

"I bet you feel pretty badass right now," she said.

His face mirrored her own smirk as he winked at her.

"I could think of a couple of ways for you to thank me," he hinted, pressing himself against her suggestively.

Santana shook her head, chuckling. She didn't mention that the same thoughts had crossed her mind only a few minutes ago.

"Exclusivity, remember? Anyway, you gave me this," she pointed to her still throbbing nose, "and this!" revealing the gash on her head.

Puck seemed to struggle with himself internally.

"Call it even?" he asked finally, smiling sheepishly.

"Hah!"

Santana pulled out of the embrace and walked over to her car, where the others had been quietly watching their exchange.

"So, about the whole giving-me-your-car thing," he called to her retreating form, "You were totally serious, right?"

* * *

><p><strong>Please let me know what you thought!<strong>


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